


The Moon, The Man And His Sons

by ImpulsivelyBlue



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, only three batboys here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpulsivelyBlue/pseuds/ImpulsivelyBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moonlight is like sunlight even with all the ways its not. They aren’t seen in the sun as they really are. Even then they hide in the shadows that the sun can’t touch and avoid the sun light like it could hurt. And now, who knows, maybe it can.</p><p>They are creatures of the night. Strong in the moonlight like they cant be in the sunlight. Its at night when the touches don’t hurt as much, when they can be themselves.</p><p>Behind their mask and they are the mask. Even when they are mask it is them and the mask is their legacy. In most ways it’s all they have left to hold on to.</p><p>Bruce clinging to the memory of his parents and a police commissioner that treated him so kindly when they were and weren’t and they were gone and not coming back. And he didn’t understand, but it hurt so much and he’s flying over the alleyways of Gotham, grime sticking to his boots like a virus clinging to life and then as suddenly as his parents were gone the memories are there at the edge of his consciousness and it hurts, hurts, hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moon, The Man And His Sons

 ---

Moonlight is like sunlight even with all the ways its not. They aren’t seen in the sun as they really are. Even then they hide in the shadows that the sun can’t touch and avoid the sun light like it could hurt. And now, who knows, maybe it can.

They are creatures of the night. Strong in the moonlight like they cant be in the sunlight. Its at night when the touches don’t hurt as much, when they can be themselves.

Behind their mask and they are the mask. Even when they are mask it is them and the mask is their legacy. In most ways it’s all they have left to hold on to.

Bruce clinging to the memory of his parents and a police commissioner that treated him so kindly when they _were_ and _weren’t_ and they were _gone_ and not coming back. And he didn’t understand, but it hurt so much and he’s flying over the alleyways of Gotham, grime sticking to his boots like a virus clinging to life and then as suddenly as his parents were gone the memories are there at the edge of his consciousness and it hurts, hurts, _hurts._

He sees his sons and he sees what he’s done to them. Bruce was never meant to be a father. He was, and is, too distant. He cant show them how much they mean to him and its driving them away from him. It hurts to know this, but he knows its true.

There is so much hurt because no matter how much he knows he’s hurting them, no matter how much he fails to try he wont leave them. He wont leave them to be without a parent. They have all lost so much already, some more than most. Yet even now, they wont leave him and he cant bring himself to leave them, not again, not ever.

He watches his oldest and his first and _his son_ as he flips and flies over alleyways, as he flies as he had his whole life. There’s a moment of panic that always eats at him as the familiar blue and black of Nightwing ducks down in to an alleyway, but then he’s back again and he’s jumping the fire escapes and it hurts as much as it is a relief because now he’s flying too, not how he should have, but how he does. He passes the alleyway, there’s always another. There’s always the memories.

He sees Jason. Streets away and a lifetime ago. He’s bright and he laughs and Bruce cant help but be proud. Jason isn’t his first son or his only son but he is _his son._ He’s the son he took off the streets and gave a home, he’s the son he wants just like Dick is. He pushed Dick away, he saw how he grew up and now there’s Jason and he’s so young and Bruce knows he cant fail Jason as well.

But he does.

It’s like falling. He’s on his knees and he’s cradling his son in both of his sons colours, and he _couldn’t save him._ It hurts him so much, too much. Dick screams and shouts and cry’s for his brother _(Little Wing, Little Brother)._  He says everything Bruce can’t. He already knows its his fault. He knows he’s a bad father. He knows he wasn’t meant to have children. _He knows._

And then there was Tim.

Tim was safe because Tim had parents and he wasn’t looking for a father because he had Jack. Sometimes Bruce wishes he could be Jack, he could be Tim’s father. But he stops himself from reaching out and he draws in on himself. He trains Tim harder than Dick or Jason. He pushes him father, to be faster and to be better. To be everything Dick and Jason and he wasn’t. To be the perfect Robin.

But he misses it. The cracks in Tim’s armour. The parts that are falling apart because Dick won’t look at him without seeing Jason, so he doesn’t visit anymore. He doesn’t see there was Tim’s smile flatters when one of them _almost_ says Jason and not Tim. He misses the way Dick doesn’t call him little brother because it’s too much like little brother and little wing. He misses this and so much more.

And then Tim is his and he sees how he always was no matter how much he tries to convince himself otherwise. Tim is his Robin, because Batman needs a Robin. And Tim is his son, because Tim needs a father and Bruce has a son and he _doesn’t want him._

It is painful to think about. Tim isn’t his first child, his pride, his partner.  He isn’t his second child, his failure and his Robin. He is Tim and he is the third and he is there because he is needed and he wants to be needed. He is there because of Bruce’s failure. He is Robin and more. He is Bruce’s grates achievement and a reminder of his biggest failure.

 ---


End file.
